


Here and Now, and Not There and Then

by TrippingOnStairs



Series: Here and Now [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Character Study, Chronic Pain, Introspection, Italics, Nightmares, There's no plot, bold text, i guess, so i think that makes it a character study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 04:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18336287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrippingOnStairs/pseuds/TrippingOnStairs
Summary: It had been a few months since the last time he’d had a bout of nightmares, but that had been in the summer with Will’s family, his safety net, and that was not here and now. Now Dex was in the Haus, with no one to ease the fear that still buzzed behind is eyes.





	Here and Now, and Not There and Then

**Author's Note:**

> To everyone waiting for “He Saw You?!” to update: I’m so sorry. Have this?

He was running. Running, running, running but not fast enough. Not enough. Not enough.

 

It was the Reaching. The Reaching was following him, was _reaching_ for him, was catching him. It snagged on his clothes, pulled him farther back. It wanted him.

 

This dance was familiar. It happened like clockwork, every time. He’d take a walk in the woods, a path he’s walked thousands of times when he needed to calm down. There’s a creek that runs through that’s always deeper than it seems, but the water is cold and bright and tempts him every time. And every time he gives in, kneels down and dips his hands then his face in, and every time he surfaces to the feeling of eyes on him.

 

He knows there are no eyes. He’s being watched but not by eyes because the Man does not have eyes. The Blinded Man has watched him since childhood.

 

He’d start walking again, knowing he was being watched. The tension made him walk faster and faster, and then he’d see the Reaching out of the corner of his eye. And he’d run. He’s been running and running and running and the _Reaching just keeps getting closer and clo_ ** _ser and closer and---_ **he’d slip away, catch his breath, and the chase would start again.

 

So he’s running. He’s been running for hours but the Reaching just keeps getting closer. It’s teasing him, he knows, toying with him. It could have caught him almost immediately but it likes the chase, the _hunt_ , the adrenaline. But it must have grown bored, because it has him now, its grip hands and claws and tentacles and vines all at once. He looks up to scream for help but his breath catches in his throat. The Blinded Man is in front of him now with that face, aged and worn with the eyes scooped out but it’s _familiar, familial, it’s_ **_his_ ** _, wizened and cracked and_ **_ravaged_ ** _but it’s_ **_his_ ** _oh it’s_ **_his his his_ ** **_—_ **

 

Dex woke with a jerk and a gasp.

 

Heart pounding, he searched the dark corners of the room for the danger his adrenaline expected. Finding none, he took a deep breath and scrubbed at his face with his hands, systematically locking this nightmare in the same box with the others from the past week. It had been a few months since the last time he’d had a bout of nightmares, but that had been in the summer with Will’s family, his safety net, and that was not here and now. Now Dex was in the Haus, with no one to ease the fear that still buzzed behind is eyes.

 

Dex wasn’t Will, and couldn’t be, but Dex was closer to Will than Poindexter ever was.

 

When he slipped out of his room, Dex was left behind and Will headed to the kitchen. He felt an odd sort of disappointment when he remembered, halfway up the stairs, that there would be no cream cheese in the fridge. Whipped cream cheese was an odd comfort food he’d picked up from his mother as a child and he made a note to himself to install a small fridge in the bungalow as soon as he could. If he left it in the Haus fridge it would disappear when he wasn’t looking. There was ginger lemon tea, though. Chowder had bought a Singaporean brand that was more ginger than lemon last year and had forgotten about it in favour of a bitter cinnamon tea. Will sought it out now, preparing himself a cup to soothe himself. He settled in at the table before finally looking at the time.

 

_3:48_ stared back at him mockingly.

 

A deep set ache along his spine and hips reminded Will that he had neglected to take his meds before bed. Tomorrow promised to be difficult. He debated with himself, deciding between toughing out the pain or taking ibuprofen every few hours to try to manage it. A part of him longed to feel it, the same part that had been craving a fist to the face like an ice cream novelty since the nightmares started up again. He would need to focus, though, so Will set an alarm on his phone to remind him when he could take more.

 

Taking a sip of tea, Will centred in on himself. Now that he had taken stock of his physical state, he could deal with his emotions. He knows Dr. Kowaczyk would have something to say about this process, but Will couldn’t afford to go to therapy _and_ college. Besides, his system worked. Slowly, vertebra by vertebra, he relaxed, easing the tension from his shoulders in a practiced manner.

 

He hates that he’s glad no one saw him like this. It’s easy to be Dex–angry, obtuse, small-town Dex–during the day, but now it just feels remarkably lonely. He just… couldn’t trust Samwell with Will. Will was soft and protective and belonged to the beaches and the Gulf. Will would break if he let himself love Samwell and Samwell didn’t love him back, but now was not the time to worry about that. Will knew that even though sleep seemed distant, he’d need more to handle tomorrow, and that line of thinking would do him no good.

 

_4:12,_ the clock reads now.

 

Will stares into his empty mug, somehow both distant and so incredibly present. He’s so tired. He should call his brother, ground himself in the knowledge that his family is safe and loves him, but doing that would upset Aiden and then he’d want to come to visit and then Will would have to balance Dex with the team and Will with his brother and then. Then. Then Will would have to answer for something, to someone, and he wasn’t ready for that. Something about letting his family know he’s someone else away from them tastes vile.

 

It’s his own fault, he knows. He didn’t have to have separate home and school personas, but he did anyways. No one here knew him before, he could be Will here, but instead of being Will he erased Poindexter and just became Dex. Will sighed and rose to his feet, pushing past the stiffness in his aching back with a brusqueness that could only speak of experiences. He placed the mug in the sink, resolving to clean it in the morning, and slunk down the stairs to go back to bed.

 

The lights in the basement seemed to mock him. Not only was he isolating himself emotionally, he had gone on to do so physically. Moving out of the room he shared with Derek Goddamn Nurse–his friend, his linemate, so why couldn’t Will just… be friends with him? Share a space?–just so he didn’t have to be Dex all the time. (He didn’t have to be Dex at all, he could be Will all the time and he wasn’t sure the team would notice.)

 

Will wrapped himself in his blankets and settled down. He closed his eyes and didn’t open them until his alarm went off, though whether or not he slept is up for debate. Dex got ready for team breakfast, and Will stayed in the bungalow.

**Author's Note:**

> This was mainly me giving my problems to a character I relate to, but uh... Let me know what you thought of the nightmare? <3


End file.
